Lollipop Sweetness
by ChocolateCarnival
Summary: As the four-year-younger brother of Kurosaki Ichigo, Shiro was fast becoming Karakura High's most feared first year student. However, regardless of the fear that his growing reputation spreads, the fifteen-year-old is well aware that an illicit attraction fuels the dark obsession he has with his most beloved Onii-san. Strange though, how a twist in fate may create utter bliss. Yaoi
1. Lollipop Sweetness: Part 1

Right my honeys, I apologize for my inactiveness this month but I'm STILL really sick and I can't write as much as I'd like to. This story's concept is one that I've wanted to play with for as long as I can remember. I have always wanted to write a story where a younger Shiro dominates his older brother, Ichigo. So this is the result. I ask that you please remember, this is a two-shot so this is only the introduction…also please heed the warnings that I will be listing, there are quite a few:

Lollipop Sweetness contains: **M/M Lemons, Angst, Rough Sex, Possible use of toys, younger** (Fifteen-year-old)** Shiro dominating his older** (nineteen-year-old**) brother Ichigo**. A **reverse** **of **how I usually write **dominants and submissives**, **Possessive!Shiro, Innocent/Submissive!Ichigo**. **Completely AU Modern Japanese/Yakuza Relations Setting**. **Violence** in the first part**, Incest** and a **Dark Fic**. It's considerably lighter to my usual works as it's written purely for visual stimulation but we'll see how it turns out.

The set pairing for Lollipop Sweetness is: **Kurosaki Shiro (**黒崎 白**) x Kurosaki Ichigo (**黒崎 一護**)**

I'm still sick my honeys, so I'm running out of things to say. Please enjoy for now, it may be a while until I update part 2. I'm trying my best in meantime to carry on with my updates as soon as possible.

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><p><span><strong>Lollipop Sweetness<strong>

'Che, utterly worthless.' A quiet baritone uttered with sheer disgust, deep golden eyes gazing apathetically at the spread of deadly carnage that the infamous and enraged Demon of Karakura had left behind in his wake. It should be a sin for such weak fighters to exist in this town, the Central 46 were clearly _not_ governing the Gotei-13 correctly if this was to be the gathering point of Seireitei; the most respected and feared Yakuza organization in the entirety of Japan. Pressing the heel of a white sneaker clad foot against the bloodied head of one of his attackers nonchalantly, Kurosaki Shiro tugged his blazer more firmly around proud shoulders as he buried his hands in grey uniform pants and paid no mind to the taste of blood that saturated his mouth or the ache that was searing his knuckles so distractingly. A sly blue tongue was dragging across a deadly smirk of pure satisfaction, the flicker of a silvery ring piercing it's unusually coloured surface as the fifteen-year-old tested the tolerance of pain he had against a small wound splitting his lip. 'For fuck's sake, when will ya learn not to pick fights that ya cannot possibly win?!' He questioned with sheer frustration, swiping away the blood trailing down his chin with a red lined sleeve as the first-year student remained completely unfazed by the groans of pain that were echoing through a blood stained atmosphere.

It was _not_ funny anymore, Shiro thought irritably. The Oyaji was going to throw a fit if he saw his youngest has been in a fight again, he already got into far too much trouble these days without the influence of street gangs trying to take him out or the lower ranking Yakuza that were stupid enough to try and punish the former Shiba Head's family for their downfall from nobility _twenty_ years ago. But he couldn't help it, damn it! He was constantly forced to defend against petty school gangs that picked on him because of his appearance and tried to prove their superiority over his rising reputation as the Demon of Karakura. Possessing a vast array of white locks that tumbled evocatively down his spine to brush against thin hips, a tall lithe frame and six black loop earrings pierced in his left ear; Shi was well known throughout the illicit streets as either a target to play with or feared instinctively for the inheritance that ran so potently in his blood. He was a deadly force to be reckoned with, his speed and strength rumoured to be so indiscernible that he was trumped in technique and skill by only _one_ other person…his four year older brother, Kurosaki Ichigo. Even though Ichi-nii was regarded as the eternal King of Karakura High, his little brother was fast becoming the only student that had come close to shaking the Heika's (1*) eternal throne of superiority regardless of being a mere first-year.

Not that it was Shiro's intention at all, he had no true desire to take over his nineteen-year-old brother's past title or influential reputation. He merely defended himself as was necessary, protected his family as best he could and tried to shield his beloved Onii-san from harm and the darkness that tainted their bloodstained world. It was a returned favour that existed equally between them, the white haired teen having sworn to protect his older brother just as fiercely as his most beloved Ichigo protected him. It was an unbreakable promise that Shiro knew could _never_ be shattered by any outside influence or trampled on carelessly by the filth that walked this earth. The two of them were inseparable after all, the only children of a former Gotei-13 Captain, Shiba Isshin, and their deceased mother, Kurosaki Masaki. Despite the fact that it had placed both brothers in many dangerous, sometimes life-threatening situations before; it had become the foundation of irrevocable trust, reliance, love, comfort and possessive instinct that ebbed and flowed so eternally between them. Ichigo may have been the oldest in appearance but he was far too compassionate and innocent for the dangerous world they had been born into, often marking him unfairly as the 'younger' and 'weaker' in heart when compared to his Otouto's fiercer and more frightening nature.

The orange haired university student was completely oblivious of the dangers that lurked around him most of the time, his kindness influencing an unusual fighting technique that was never initiated selfishly or without good reason. Kurosaki Ichigo was known as a self-sacrificing martyr that never fought to protect himself from harm, something that his younger brother _always_ tried to stop his Onii-san from doing unconsciously. But it was a useless endeavour these days, Shiro thought absently. He couldn't shield his brother so well when Ichi-nii was no longer close by or lived at the family clinic with him and the insane Oyaji. He could understand _why_ the orangette had moved out as soon as he could however, their father was far too much of an idiot to survive living with for more than eighteen years in a single lifetime. The youngest of the two was even _highly_ envious of Ichigo's small apartment that was situated several blocks away from Karakura Town's prestigious S University. It was _not_ fair, Shiro mourned internally. He didn't want to be around the energetic Goat-Face any longer either, Otou-san was too difficult to handle these days with his constant 'tests of courage' and insane morning wake up calls. Which was probably why an exhausted sigh was falling despairing from surprisingly full lips, the white haired student throwing a dark blue and white book bag over his shoulder as he headed in the opposite direction of the family home.

The mere thought of having to face one of Isshin's "_No matter what reason, to he who disrupts this household's iron harmony, only punishment of blood can be rendered_" lectures, was more than enough to force Shiro on a path towards Ichigo's familiar apartment instead. His pride had been hurt more than enough from an underhanded attack that day, he really didn't have the strength to face the Old Man's insane brand of fatherly concern too. Shiro was sure that Ichigo would understand his unexpected visit, his brother was a gentle and loving soul that had thankfully inherited their mother's beautiful grace and fierce protectiveness rather than their father's unrefined nature and annoying exuberance. Something within the orangette just attracted people towards him like the sun, his soul so inherently pure and untainted by darkness that even the younger of the infamous Kurosaki brothers was envious of the eternal warmth that surrounded _his_ Ichi-nii like a halo of protection. Hissing softly in irritation when the overcast skies abruptly burst open with a bright blue lightning strike, golden eyes narrowed down in dark glare as the white haired fifteen-year-old absently tugged red and black headphones over his ears to drown out the sound of a brewing storm and absently tilted his head towards the caress of spring rain that was falling soothingly from above.

A shaggy array of messy white bangs; skittering softly across pale cheeks, falling between golden eyes set upon a sea of black sclera and sticking wetly to a furrowed brow were falling forward artfully to conceal a sharpened gaze from sight as black nailed fingertips rose thoughtfully to brush against a bleeding bottom lip cautiously. "_One hit, one weakness."_ The Oyaji would say and Shiro agreed with him just this once. It was disgraceful, he had been trained his entire life in several different fighting techniques and he had let his guard down for one crucial second that could have ended up being quite dangerous had he been faced with weapons or a concealed knife instead. That was not the way that any Shiba would fall but it was enough to force Shiro to realize that he was still not strong enough to truly protect Ichigo like he wished to. Even though his Onii-san was more than capable of looking after himself when truly needed, he was _still_ the sole reason why the youngest wished for strength in the first place. When they had been younger and Shiro five years old, their mother had been sacrificed right before her sons' eyes whilst desperately trying to protect them from a rival gang's undue revenge. What he had seen that day, the screams of Onii-san's despondency he had heard and those hauntingly beautiful chocolate brown eyes overrun with tears was something that had seared itself into the backs of his eyelids for eternity.

Shi may not have understood what was happening at the time but one thing that he would _never_ forget was the way that his heart had cried out in pain at the sound of Ichigo's despair and the eternal warmth that he had felt when Ichi-nii had wound him up in a protective embrace that refused to let go even when a horrifying wound had been sunk into the nine-year-old's back and stomach. _To protect one thing_, it was the very phrase that made up the essence of Ichigo's entire existence and Shiro, just like that, had been drawn into his brother's eternal and fiery warmth that day regardless of the blood that stained their memories and the debilitating and confusing fear they had felt. He had sworn to his very soul that he would return the same warmth, love and protection that he had felt and get rid of the paralyzing fear that still haunted him in his sleep sometimes. The only problem that the white haired being was faced with these days, was that his love had turned into something much deeper and instinctual over the last three years. He was_ constantly_ overwhelmed by an intense need to stay close to his beloved Ichi-nii as his growing age had unknowingly opened up a burning fire of desire within him to _possess_ the orangette for himself…even when his feelings were not regarded as anything quite so innocent as 'admiration' and 'brotherly affection' anymore.

A quiet chuckle was escaping pale lips unbidden of the hip-length white haired teen's permission, steady footsteps guiding him down rain-wet and familiar streets as he could no longer contain the shiver of bliss racing down his spine the closer that he drew to Ichi-nii's apartment. To be bathed in the warmth of the orangette's presence for a few hours, even an entire night was more than enough to hasten his steady pace as Shiro felt no true need within him to conceal his form from the rain's touch and the distracting wetness that was soaking through his school uniform so completely. He was raking black nailed fingertips through long wet strands absently, an array of black bracelets set around his left wrist, creating a startling contrast upon pale skin as a carmine shirt, settled below a grey and red blazer, clung tightly to a dampened torso. Intense golden eyes were dutifully scanning the streets for any possible threats lurking in growing shadows, the overcast skies darkening with the approach of night as Shiro knew he was _not_ permitted to drop his guard for even a second. Regardless of his mind that was saturated by the lull of music and one of his senses deliberately cut off from perceiving the world, the son of Gotei-13 Captain should always remain wary of the night and the hidden dangers it possessed.

When he finally managed to climb the outside staircase to the third floor apartment several minutes later, pale fingertips had already taken out the extra key that Ichigo had given him as the door sprung open with a quiet click not long after. It was still an hour too early for Ichigo to be back from his classes but Shiro would make himself home for now, his attention only briefly distracted by sending his father a text message and dually informing his beloved that he had invaded his home for the time being. It wouldn't do to give Ichi-nii a shock when he returned home to find his little brother sprawled on the couch or completing his homework like the surprisingly studious rebel he was in contrast to his wild appearance. The only problem that Shiro was faced with, was the quite obvious wound that was drawn across his lip. He had never been fond of making Ichigo worry on purpose, his beloved was already faced with far too much on his own but Ichi-nii wasn't going to like the fact that someone had hurt his Otouto. Too bad for the orangette though, his attackers were already littered across the street half-dead and ripped apart by no remorse whatsoever. Igniting the Demon of Karakura's deadly rage was not something to survive easily, regardless of how protective the King may get in return or how dangerous it truly was to awaken the sleeping Heika from his peaceful existence as a medical student these days.

The first thing to do though, was wash away the blood that stained his hands. Removing his sneakers by the front door, golden eyes were frowning in confusion when he noticed intricately buckled and heavy black boots already present in the foyer. That was odd, had the clash in the streets messed with his perception _so_ much that Ichi-nii had already returned home? No, that wasn't quite right. The stylish black watch that was curled around his right wrist betrayed the time as only 5:30…another half-hour before the last lecture at S University would come to an end. Calling out a quiet greeting in response to the unusual sight, Shiro was quite surprised when a quiet tenor answered him from the direction of the living room several seconds later. His footsteps were hastened across dark wood floors near instantly, the neatly decorated silver and black apartment fading into the background of a hazed perception as Shiro wanted nothing more than to see Ichigo for himself. Just hearing the lilt of that beautiful voice was enough to chase a previously rested heartbeat into an erratic rhythm of sheer anticipation and uncontained desire. Even though he had seen Ichi-nii two days before at the family dinner, too much time had passed since he had been able to envelope himself in a sweet scent and burn upon his skin the sensation of a fiery presence.

'Ichigo?' Shiro called with concern, his rushing footsteps frozen in the threshold of the living room as golden eyes took in the sight that was spread so hauntingly before him. 'Are you alright?' Chocolate brown eyes lifted absently from the intense spread of textbooks and several notebooks on a low table as the older Kurosaki allowed a quiet sigh to spill passed luscious petal pink lips. Elegant fingertips were rising absently to push sliding curved and stylish rectangular glasses up a straight nose as Shiro was instantly struck by beauty of the elegant movement. Golden eyes were lidding down in a lustful gaze, eagerly drinking in the image that loose black cargo pants, settled evocatively around thin hips, made and the sensual folds of a long-sleeved red and black striped shirt that had crept up a sculpted abdomen to display a small but tantalizing splay of flawlessly tanned skin. A messy array of orange locks was falling forward artfully to skitter playfully across slightly flushed cheeks as two near unnoticeable sideburns accentuated a spiky and scruffy style that was partially concealing chocolate brown eyes from an intense mismatched gaze. The world was grinding to a halt for the fifteen-year-old several seconds later though, the moment that a loving smile, only every displayed to Shiro, curled across beautiful features as the orangette stood with several swaying steps and tugged a strawberry lollipop from between parted lips.

'Tsk, showing up here like this. Did you get into trouble again?' Ichigo asked irritably, closing the small distance that separated them as his four inch taller frame took advantage of his height and he tipped Shiro's chin upwards so that a defiant glare could clash violently with his concerned gaze. Really now, his Otouto was so predictable…step on his pride a little by getting in one hit and he always returns to his older brother in search of comfort. Allowing for a quiet sigh to fall from parted lips, Ichigo paid no mind to his own splitting migraine that had forced him to retreat from his last lecture that day as he forced his lollipop between pale lips and caressed a split lip with considerable concern. Capturing his brother's hand that rose to take away the sweetened treat to defend himself verbally, the orange haired nineteen-year-old lead the younger student over to a black couch with a quiet shake of his head. '_No_, Shi. If you are going to show up here, soaked through by the rain and clearly unsettled by a mistake, then you'll have to deal with silence until I can clean the cut at least a little. Now be a good boy and finish your lollipop, the sweetness will cleanse the taste of blood.' Despite it being a mere superficial wound, Ichigo was still deeply concerned by the thought of his baby brother getting into fights as he ruffled gentle fingertips through silky white strands to appease the deadly golden eyed glare that was threatening him so boldly.

'Geez, I swear. I cannot leave you alone for one minute.' Scolding Shiro now was probably just going to anger him more, so Ichigo leaned forward tenderly to press a consoling kiss to a furrowed brow as he smiled gently at the black nailed fingertips that came up to brush his cheek in returned affection. It was sweet, Shi was quite affectionate when he wanted to be despite his rough and sometimes sadistic tendencies. Only for his beloved Ichi-nii did he show this side, something that the orangette loved more than anything as he quietly disappeared down the hallway in search of his own bedroom. Shiro would _always_ be his most beloved little brother, the only being that he was inclined to protect more fiercely than his own life just as he knew Shiro protected him eternally. Sometimes he couldn't understand his own emotions around the white haired teen anymore but something between them had definitely become twisted somewhere along the way…they only had each other after all and the intensity of their bond was something that Ichigo had felt shifting into more taboo and unusual desires several years ago. Not that it mattered at all, he thought mournfully. Look at the illicit family they had grown up in? The darkness that stained their past meant that the Kurosaki brothers were truly _nothing_ without each other and the intense reliance that they each concealed in their hearts so possessively.

'_Fuck_! Just what the hell am I thinking at a time like this?' Ichigo scolded himself harshly, elegant fingertips tugging despairing at messy orange locks to ground his thoughts and the pain that was skittering so distractingly across his forehead as leaned against the doorframe of a large bathroom for several seconds to collect himself. Now was _not_ the time to be drawn into such a strange daze where the world was spinning beneath his feet and his breaths were hitching quite erratically and painfully in his chest. He couldn't do much for Shiro's wound except clean it, but it was enough to distract him for now as he gathered the first aid box in the palm of his hand and he headed in the direction of the living room with several unsteady steps. An orange head was tilting to the side absently, listening intently to the increasing intensity of the falling rain as drifting thoughts could not help but return to that mournful day again. Ah…the one day that he could never forgive himself for and the—.

'Ichi-nii?' A concerned baritone called abruptly, startling the orangette from his intense daze for now as black nailed fingertips twirled a strawberry lollipop between pale lips and the nineteen-year-old was gifted a deadly and teasing smirk. 'What'cha standin' around for so lost in thought? Are ya sick today?' Narrowing chocolate brown eyes in a deadly glare, the orange haired teen couldn't conceal the lie he told when a soft touch of pink coloured his cheeks and a stuttered 'I-I'm f-fine, damn it!' echoed from petal pink lips far too quickly to be normal. It seemed that his little brother was being far too perceptive again, reading his beloved like an open book in mere seconds…

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><p>1* - Heika – KingYour Majesty

Right, there you have it. I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading, I really appreciate it. If I could please receive a small review for my work, I'd be eternally grateful to you and it would make me very happy. I'll see you guys again soon, hopefully, with the second part of this or something else when I feel better.

Yours Always

Chocolate Carnival


	2. Lollipop Sweetness: Part 2

I want to thank everyone who reviewed this story and the many well wishes I received, it really meant a lot. I apologize that it took so long to complete but I'm still sick and struggling to write as it comes to me. This story turned into a lot more than I expected of it, it was a lot of fun to complete but it became quite dark regardless of the happy ending.

There isn't much to say except the warnings:

Lollipop Sweetness contains: **M/M Lemons, Angst, Rough Sex, Blood Play, Use of Zangetsu In the Lemon, younger** (Fifteen-year-old)** Shiro dominating his older** (nineteen-year-old)** brother Ichigo**. A **reverse** **of **how I usually write **dominants and submissives**, **Possessive!Shiro, Innocent/Submissive!Ichigo**. **Completely AU Modern Japanese/Yakuza Relations Setting**. **Violence** in the first part**, Incest** and a **Dark Fic**. It's considerably lighter to my usual works as it's written purely for visual stimulation but we'll see how it turns out.

The set pairing for Lollipop Sweetness is: **Kurosaki Shiro (**黒崎 白**) x Kurosaki Ichigo (**黒崎 一護**)**

So there you have it my honeys, I'm exhausted and worked a little too hard on this one. This is just a quick note, I may be holding one or two request fics for Halloween but please keep an eye on my profile and blog for more information on that over the next week. I'll have to see what takes me away since I can't really tell right now, I'm too sick. For now, please enjoy:

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><p><span><strong>Lollipop Sweetness:<strong>

The rain. Ichigo _hated_ the rain, it always stirred an unknown and dangerous rustle of instinct within him as intensely focused chocolate brown eyes gazed thoughtfully at the heavy night sky through a raindrop-obscured window. Tracking a vibrant arc of lighting that sailed restlessly through the air mere seconds later, a clap of thunder reverberated powerfully through the small apartment's three separate rooms the moment that a brief flash illuminated a vast splay of hip-length white locks that was resting on his feather pillow and pale features that had turned towards him some time during the last hour. It was getting closer and closer to midnight, the hours of the night ticking by far too slowly as the orange haired student reached gentle fingertips forward to brush messy white bangs from pale cheeks lovingly. Caressing pale skin with bold affection in contrast to his inherent and shy nature, a near silent chuckle escaped petal pink lips when a straight nose wrinkled childishly at his touch and Shiro burrowed himself deeper beneath the all-encompassing warmth of a dark green eiderdown duvet. It was sweet, he noted privately. These little moments that the orangette could steal for himself as his bother slept unaware of his presence. It was often the_ only_ brush of happiness he could find even if he would feel guilty later for taking advantage of selfish whims and satisfying the desire he had to touch his Otouto like only a beloved would.

'You have no idea what you do to me, Shi. So tempting, so sweet…' Ichigo breathed with considerable strain, forcing himself from beneath cool silk sheets as he crossed the short distance to a closed window and pressed his forehead against frosty glass to collect himself for several moments. When his precious Otouto had pleaded to stay the night several hours earlier, Ichigo simply didn't have it in him to refuse the rare but most loved request. It simply did not matter that he had to share his double bed for the night or the fact that he could possibly anger the Oyaji by 'stealing' his youngest for the rest of the upcoming weekend. 'Che, irritating Old Man.' A quiet tenor noted absently the moment that a satisfied smirk crept across petal pink lips, elegant fingertips curling decisively around a black cell phone as the second-year medical student stared at the blank screen for several minutes of contemplation. For someone to lay a hand on Shiro was utterly unforgiveable, regardless of the fact that the white haired teen had most likely dealt with the problem by himself. To ignite the protective nature that ran so potently within the orangette's blood was a deadly endeavour to attempt, an unexpected outcome that the gangs of Karakura High were about to find out for themselves as determined footsteps lead a lithe frame over to a built in closet and a silver ringed thumb pressed the dial button on his smart phone several seconds later.

It took only three rings before the call was connected, a sleepy voice answering the phone with an irritated 'what' as the orange haired teen deftly changed his loose cotton sleep pants and t-shirt for tight black jeans and a form fitting long-sleeved black shirt, that possessed a wide enough collar to display a tantalizing line connecting his neck to his collarbone, instead. A silver skull pendant was glinting proudly against the orange haired nineteen-year-old's chest, Ichigo curling his hand around a heavy thigh-length black trench coat as the still night air was abruptly shattered by his voice. 'It's me,' He said quietly, throwing soft fabric across straightened shoulders as bare feet headed directly for the bedroom door with silent steps. 'I need a favour, Renji.' Those words were all it took for the night to become bathed with dark shadows, the bedroom sealed shut tightly behind him as the orangette headed towards the one traditional room in his apartment that Shiro was absolutely forbidden from entering. Illuminated by several flickering oil candles and settled within a traditional sword rack, were a deadly pair of unusually shaped blades that were waiting patiently for their Master's touch. Where, situated in the centre of a twelve-tatami mat room, was his greatest and proudest secret.

Messy orange locks were tickling pale cheeks playfully, Ichigo kneeling respectively on one knee before _their_ dual and awe inspiring presence as grasped in his left hand was the silver key to this room. A phone receiver was still pressed against his ear, the orange haired nineteen-year-old paying no mind to the haunting melody that several black belts and evocatively twining chains created around thin hips...

All that mattered was that he _got_ the information he had asked for.

'Not that it's any of my business, Shiba-Taichō, but just what the hell do you need _that_ sort of information for?' Bringing up absent fingertips to remove stylish red and orange framed glasses from the bridge of a straight nose, chocolate brown eyes narrowed down into a deadly glare as all emotion was erased from hauntingly beautiful features and two swift movements sheathed a large silk wrapped blade, as long as he was tall with an elongated hilt and a small parallel gap missing from the centre, across his back as its smaller companion came to rest against Ichigo's right thigh in a specially crafted black saya. The dual Zangetsus as they were known fearfully amongst the upper echelons of the Gotei-13, proudly belonged to Seireitei's youngest Captain the moment that the orangette had secretly taken over his father's abandoned division a year ago at the Soutaichō's insistence. 'As you said, it's none of your business, Renji. I do not have much time to play around tonight. There is much to accomplish within the hour and I need to return before there's a possibility that my little white rabbit wakes.' With the importance of his words finally conveyed, time seemed to slow to a halt around him as Ichigo locked the front door behind him and intricately buckled and heavy black boots descended the stairs towards the streets with new found and frightening resolve.

As the Taichō of the recently resurrected Juubantai Division, Kurosaki Ichigo; or Shiba Ichigo as he was known these days, was carefully guarded as the Gotei-13's deadliest weapon regardless of his status as a fallen noble or the parentage that ran so potently within his veins. When he had turned eighteen the newly instated Soutaichō had invited Ichigo to take over his father's previous division, something that he had tried everything in his power to refuse. However, Kyōraku Shunsui was far more devious than his predecessor and having already been tainted by the darkness of the world that had stolen his mother so cruelly, the orange haired nineteen-year-old had had no real grounds to spit in the face of the family he had grown up with or any true heart to place Shiro in more danger than he already was. The offer had been a simple one:_ 'Work for us and your little brother will be spared the rightful punishment of your father's disobedience, the Shiba family will even be returned to its rightful noble status._' Not that the orangette gave a fuck about the noble line he was descendent from, all that mattered was that he protected Shi from harm and made life for his Old Man a little easier than it was. The eldest Kurosaki had dutifully looked after his two sons and shielded them from the worst of the fall out his actions had caused for twenty years after all, it was time that he was granted a well-deserved break.

The only _true_ distressing fact, was that the Gotei-13 had Ichigo's greatest weakness grasped tightly between malicious fingertips. They could easily control the strings of cruel fate that bound him up like nothing more than a marionette bred _solely_ for their advantage. Strange though, how Ichigo didn't resent his position as much as he first thought he would. Perhaps it was the fact that he was rarely used or that his division was responsible for intelligence gathering most of the time. Or maybe it was because his position at S University afforded him an unusual base of operations that was situated close to the youth of Karakura, the daring souls that formed high school gangs stupid enough to cause trouble where it _shouldn't_ be caused. A quiet smirk was dancing playfully across luscious petal pink lips, Ichigo well aware that he was still considered _the_ King of that realm. He knew its ins and outs _very_ intimately. Like this too, he had been given a second chance to protect Shiro much more affectively. The fifteen-year-old student was close to his older brother's unseen and unfelt presence most of the time and the orangette had sworn that he would _not_ fail little Shi again. _To protect one thing_, Ichigo would _never _forget the very essence of his soul…_nothing_ would be able to steal away the precious lives he had been gifted the power to protect more fiercely now than ever before.

Zangetsu did not exist for the selfish whims of Seireitei after all, they were an extension of his soul that were wielded _solely_ for the protection of his loved ones. Lifting elegant fingertips to brush a black silk-wrapped hilt in search of consoling and gentle comfort, Ichigo allowed a quiet sigh to spill from parted lips as the streetlamps illuminated an overcast night sky dimly and falling raindrops began to plaster messy orange locks to a perpetually furrowed tangerine brow. It was perhaps not the best idea to transverse the night when he had been forced from class with a painful migraine earlier, but there was no other choice. There were things to be done that could not wait, forcing the orangette to stubbornly ignore the heated touch of a growing fever that was skittering across shivering skin and several stuttering breaths that were hitching quite painfully in his chest. To be driven into a protective state where he had taken Zangetsu from the sword rack, meant that Ichigo would not allow himself to show weakness because his fingertips only ever touched their hilts when it became needed to defend his pride and family. As a revered and surprise initiation gift from the Tōshin (1*), Zangetsu's two pitch black blades were jealously guarded as the two most unique and beautiful weapons that had ever been forged by the guards of Seireitei's highest ruling authority, the Reiou.

They were a rare sight upon these streets, an even rarer gift to receive without some form of blood payment but those unlucky enough to glimpse their unsealed forms…were known to become the fallen souls that were cursed to came face to face with Ichigo's most feared and frightening protectiveness. And to place a single injury upon Shiro was enough to awaken the deadly instinct that all Shiba's were born with, carrying Ichigo into the darkness of the dreary night as he paid no mind to the shadows that followed behind him or his temporary lieutenant that fell in step beside him several minutes later. The red haired twenty-six-year-old was on loan from the Rokubantai division until Ichigo could choose his Vice-Captain himself, but for now he had to deal with Renji's wild and uncontained personality. It was a strange friendship that they possessed however, Ichigo having grown up with the red-headed male that had lived close to the Kurosaki Clinic. It was perhaps why he was so rude to the orangette, asking questions that weren't meant to be asked and scolding his Taichō for his unusual conduct. Before Renji could shatter the rain-drenched night with several questions and astute observations, one glance from chocolate brown orbs were enough to silence a loud voice as Ichigo shivered softly in anticipation the moment that his form became bathed in the artificial light of Karakura's Central Hospital.

'You should have told me you took out Zangetsu, Ichigo. It's disgraceful to let the Taichō carry his weapon without his lieutenant being armed for protection—.'

'Renji, I did not ask you to come along…you chose to do that yourself. I merely asked for some information, it's not like I'm going to tear apart the entire hospital in a flashy display. I am here in a private capacity so logically you should not be involved. If there is a fall out…which I'm sure there won't be…make sure to claim that you knew nothing of my objective. However, for such a simple task as putting defiant children in their place, I won't be long. Ten minutes at most, Fukutaichō, I have other places to be after all.' Ichigo said quietly, offering a brief smile to his friend as he headed for the lesser known and deserted entrance at the back of the hospital. 'Oh! And recall the dogs, will ya? Get them to do something useful for once, look after the apartment and protect Shi until I return.' With that, a shadow draped form disappeared inside the large building as knee-high and heavy black boots took the staff stairs two at a time and the orange haired medical student headed towards the second floor with a thigh-length trench-coat flaring menacingly behind him. The comforting weight of his dual blades were the only catalyst he needed to push himself forward, white tiles and scrubbed floors transversed expertly until an unnoticed shadow eventually slipped inside Room 67 L before five minutes had passed and the nineteen-year-old had had a single chance to be detected by security cameras.

It was definitely a benefit being related to the Ishida family, Ichigo had grown up within these walls and had been surrounded with the hospital's secrets all his life. He knew every floor like the back of his hand, just like he knew there was an unsuspecting patient waiting for him in Room 67 L. Making his footsteps more noticeable now, the door slammed shut loudly behind him as the orange haired teen flicked on a bedside lamp to partially illuminate the room before he stepped towards the foot of the bed and picked up a medical chart. Flipping through the extensive information held within, a deadly smirk was curling across petal pink lips as chocolate brown eyes scanned the damage that his baby brother had left behind in his devastating wake. Oh my. _The Demon Of Karakura indeed_, Ichigo thought to himself proudly as he waited patiently for his victim to open his eyes and perceive the current threat the was standing by the edge of his bed. It didn't take long, the rushing intake of a surprised breath rasping distractingly through the air as the orange haired nineteen-year rested a black gloved fingertip across his lips to silence the scream that he could see building in the fallen third-year's lips. The smaller of his deadly blades was drawn so fast that dazed eyes were unable to see the movement, the razor sharp tip merely coming to rest against the centre of a forehead as Ichigo straddled his victim's chest to balance himself with smooth agility.

'Make a sound, little lamb, and my hand may just slip.' An even tenor cooed threateningly, chocolate brown eyes glowing near gold in the darkness of the room as several tinkling chains indicated his shifting weight and Ichigo simply did not care that the student he held captive to a hospital bed had several broken ribs and a concussion to boot…not to mention the seven teeth he had lost too. 'Tsk, did your mother never teach you _not_ to lay your hands on someone else's property? It's rude, especially when they fall under _my_ protection.' Ichigo said irritably, a sharpened gaze following the single droplet of blood that Zangetsu drew as he increased the pressure of his grip and several whimpers of fear fell uselessly on deaf ears. He was immune to any and all forms of sympathy when his protective nature had been awakened, the orangette's compassion quietly locked away as a cold gaze was enough to instil an instinctual and desperate fear within all hunted prey's blood. This was why Ichigo had been referred to as the King several years ago, he was a deadly force to be reckoned with when you awoke this side of him and pushing him too far only made things that much worse. Just like the orangette had been angered enough to make his presence known to those stupid enough to threaten _his_ little Shi.

'I will make this simple for you to understand,' Ichigo continued without interruption, Zangetsu coming to rest against a rapid rise and fall of a struggling chest as an unexpected and intoxicating heat caressed tanned skin and an intense gaze became lidded in a terrifying glare. 'If you do not wish to find out what happens when I draw my second blade, disband that little group of friends you have gathered and stay off _my_ streets. Lay a single hand on Kurosaki Shiro again and you will not live passed your seventeenth year. If he is harmed in any way and by anyone else in that filthy school of yours…I will hold you responsible…unlucky lamb. The Juubantai division is not _nearly_ as forgiving as you may think we are, I suggest you heed my warnings before you lose your head.' That was all that was needed, a deep gash spilling rivulets of red upon white bed sheets as the orange haired nineteen-year-old left behind a souvenir of his visit and made sure to burn his intimidating presence upon his victims mind with terrifying reality. It would not do for little kids to become conceited in false power, Ichigo thought vindictively. He was hailed fearfully as a Balancer after all, it was his duty to restore the equilibrium of this world as all Taichō were asked to do when sworn in.

Left behind several seconds later was nothing more than the whisper of the wind, not a single eye noticing his departure from Karakura Central Hospital as Ichigo headed back towards his apartment with much more subdued and thoughtful steps. It was late, he noted absently. The tip of his blade sailing through the air nonchalantly to flick away the vibrant red discolouring a black surface before he tipped his head towards the skies the moment that another rumble of thunder echoed threateningly through the cool night air. Removing thin leather gloves from his hands to gain more freedom of movement, Ichigo haphazardly stuffed them in the front pocket of his jeans as several soothing droplets caressed shadowed features and elegant fingertips came upwards to pinch the bridge of his nose in though. It _hurt_, damn it! He had completely forgotten about his painful headache, several shivers racing distractingly across highly sensitized skin as Ichigo became deeply aware that his state of mind was no longer ruled by the brief pleasure he had felt in overpowering the will of his enemy but stemmed from an inherent and icy cold that saturated his blood instead. It was chasing up the erratic beat of his heart, uncertain arms winding around his own waist in search of some self-created comfort as several stuttering breaths spilled unevenly from parted petal pink lips.

'A weak body in return for a sharp mind?' He asked the broken skies mournfully, a groan of pain echoing into the night distractingly as the wind whipped an evocative trench-coat around him and messy orange locks skittered playfully across flushed cheeks. This was _bad_, he was already displaying the signs of a growing fever as it became more and more difficult to focus on forcing himself in the direction of his home. Tonight it felt like Zangetsu was weighing him down, becoming a burden instead of his irrevocable strength the moment that a rush of dizziness collided violently within his mind and prompted a despairing chuckle to shatter the storm riddled night. Shiro was going to kill him if he saw him now, the white haired teen really did not like it when his Onii-san pushed himself when there was a possibility that he was sick. That was just too bad for him, he had caused Ichigo to worry in the first place and the orange haired medical student would _not_ be a good brother if he did not shield his precious Otouto from the truth of their cruel world and the undue violence he could easily be spared. To preserve the deep bond that existed between them, Ichigo would endure this pain if it meant he had accomplished an important task that night…

There was no doubt that he would protect Shiro with his life, this was nothing in comparison to the pain he had survived before or the guilt he felt eating him alive every night when he was reminded of his secret and dark existence under Seireitei's grasp. It was all for Shi…_all_ for Shi he would allow himself to be bound up…

Preserving his Otouto's innocence was _all_ that mattered in the end.

**...**

How many more steps did he have to take to reach the third floor? Fumbling fingertips had already unwrapped a strawberry lollipop several minutes ago, using the familiar and soothing actions to distract himself from the heat that was burning across his forehead as Ichigo moaned blissfully at the saccharine taste that flooded his mouth so decadently. This was his greatest vice, something that Shiro teased him about incessantly because it was considered so childish and innocent in nature. Others may enjoy smoking and drinking excessively but the orange haired teen had picked up the unbreakable habit of sucking on strawberry lollipops when he was stressed out or sought a little touch of pleasure to ease his unsettled emotions. To calm the small tremor that was present in his hands and chase away the lingering pain of a migraine, he was willing to risk getting teased for the small indulgence as intricately buckled black boots slowly took the last flight of stairs towards his home one at a time. His breaths were considerably shorter by now, chocolate brown eyes trained intently on the tips of his boots to make sure he was walking in a somewhat straight line as the orange haired Kurosaki finally made it to his apartment door whilst simultaneously dismissing five members of the Juubantai division that were guarding his home to protect his little brother.

Leaning his weight against the sturdy white surface for support the moment that the hallway emptied of people able to notice his current state of shameful weakness, Ichigo bent forward exhaustedly to catch his elusive breath as the world spun in dizzying circles beneath his feet and dazed chocolate brown eyes clenched shut in sheer desperation. It felt like more than double the time he had planned to stay out had already passed, leaving the medical student in a difficult bind as he struggled to steady his hand enough to unlock the front door and slip inside his home unnoticed. Things were really not looking good and as he swayed uncertainly where he stood, a quiet curse became muffled against a vibrant red lollipop when the door swung open to display the kitchen light that was on and the sound of hurried footsteps drawing closer and closer to his location with every second that passed. _Fuck_! He cursed internally, his back straightening defensively as he barely managed to brace himself for what was to come. The door was abruptly locked behind him with a decisive click, the entranceway flooded with artificial light mere moments later as an orange head tipped back against painted wood as if in prayer. Ichigo could no longer keep back the shivers racing down his spine, it was already _too_ much just to conceal the emotions that were swirling so restlessly and despairing within the depths of chocolate brown eyes.

Of_ all_ the things to happen that night, he cursed quietly. _Why_ did he have to be faced with this too? Ichigo had never expected to be so weak that he would be forced to stay out longer than planned and subsequently step right into the middle of painful situation he had no true strength to face on his own. He was out of time, there was not a single second to spare and no logical way to conceal Zangetsu's dual forms from his brother as dulled eyes became deliberately concealed in the dancing shadows of vibrant tangerine strands. Tensed shoulders were vibrating with pure tension, the tinkling sound of several twining black chains ringing out deafeningly at his restless shifting as Ichigo became deeply aware of sharp golden eyes that were pinning him against the door with pure helplessness. Petal pink lips were parting with a mournful whine, the orange haired nineteen-year-old refusing to look his Otouto in the eye because he did not wish to see the disappointment when Shiro realized the significance of the blades by his side. _Nor_ did he want to hear sadness that would taint his taboo beloved's voice or the shock that his betrayal would tear through the love and respect his baby brother held for him so irrevocably. That was not the worst of it however, Ichigo _knew_ that what was so carelessly on display now was going to tear apart his family from the beginning just as much as it was going to disappoint their father when he found out.

Isshin had raised his sons away from the influence of the Gotei-13 to protect them, to give them a chance to grow up away from violence that stained Karakura's streets and the dangers that lurked around every street corner. And Ichigo had _just_ betrayed the valuable gift that the Oyaji had worked _so_ hard to give both his sons. Was he stupid for thinking that concealing his involvement with Seireitei would not hurt his family once the truth was revealed? But concealing something like this had transformed into its own brand of torture, Ichigo was forced to bear the weight of knowing what he had done and the fact that he had been forced to yield to the pressure of the life his father had long since left behind. It was more than enough to strain his soul as a spinning mind adhered itself to the incessant sting that was searing the backs of his eyes. It was painful, Ichigo realized distractedly. The sensations completely pilfering his concentration as a luscious petal pink lip was caught between biting teeth and the orangette did not flinch when the undeniable taste of blood flooded his mouth and a trickle of carmine rolled sensually down his chin. Trembling fingertips had risen absently to remove a strawberry lollipop between his lips, chocolate brown orbs staring up at the ceiling in search of his lost strength as clenching palms eventually curled into a frustrated fists by his side.

It was impossible, really! To keep breathing without his body betraying the strained state he was already in and face Shiro to tell him the truth of what he was witnessing. It was _so_ daunting, in fact, that it chased an erratic heartbeat into a much harsher rhythm as several stuttering breaths lodged themselves painfully in the back of Ichigo's throat. There was no true justification for his reasons in joining Seireitei anymore, there was _no_ forgiveness for his betrayal and the mere thought of being hated by the _one_ person he loved more than anything…was enough for the older of the two brother's to lose a large part of himself. The difficult battle against concealing his upset was shattered abruptly, when a crystalline droplet dragged mournfully down his cheek. He simply couldn't take it anymore, it was_ too_ much. And the heavy silence that had descended upon them…was enough to break him more than he already was.

'I'm sorry…I-I…I—.'

'Where the _hell_ have you been, Ichi-nii?! It's one in the fucking morning! And what the _hell_ is—.' Blunt fingernails had begun to draw blood from the palm of a trembling hand, several rivulets caressing the sticky surface of his previously treasured treat as a bitter chuckle escaped blood stained lips and Ichigo turned his head to the side to conceal the droplet of shame glinting on his cheek. 'It's _exactly_ what you think it is, Shi. I couldn't refuse.' A quiet tenor declared truthfully, increasing the heavy tension in the air as the orangette was given no choice but to keep himself on his feet because Zangetsu's larger blade was digging so painfully into his back. Seeking to draw back instinctively at the angered footsteps that approached him threateningly, the orange haired medical student was left reeling in fright when a palm banged loudly against the door beside his head and a heated body entered the range of his strained senses to pin him further. A black nailed forefinger and thumb had gripped his chin rather harshly, forcing him to look down as his slightly shorter Otouto slammed his forehead against his older brother's and twined a harsh grip through messy orange locks to keep Ichigo's head in place. Golden eyes were sparking to life with a dangerous and uncontrolled fire, pale lips curled in a deadly sneer as a groan of pain resounded through the air and the small action caused the dizziness in Ichigo's mind to become near unbearable.

'O-ow! What the fuck, Shiro! That hurt damn it!' Ichigo snapped angrily, suddenly surprised when gentle fingertips came upwards to swipe away the noticeable tear clinging to his lashes. '_Good_, it's supposed te hurt, Ichigo!' Shiro returned sharply, easily consoling the rising emotions within his beloved with a soothing kiss pressed to the centre of a furrowed tangerine brow as unsteady arms instantly curled around his waist in search of support and gentle reprieve. Grasping the back of a tight red t-shirt and several fistfuls of snowy white locks to steady himself further, Ichigo desperately sought to draw Shiro's warmth closer to him even when he knew that it was near impossible to conceal his eyes from a sharp golden eyed glare. He was struggling to read the vibrant emotions present within gold and black depths from behind a curtain of scruffy orange bangs, his forehead coming to rest against a steady shoulder as the orange haired nineteen-year-old shivered softly when warm fingertips carded lovingly through spiky strands to settle his restless emotions and strong arms slid welcomingly around his waist. 'I'm sorry, Otouto. Perhaps if I had been strong enough to refuse their offer…I wouldn't have to hurt you or Otou-san like this. I wanted nothing more than to protect you, to—.'

'Just what are you murmuring so sorrowfully, Onii-san?' Shiro asked with considerable exasperation, tugging warningly on messy orange strands to bring Ichigo's attention back to himself as he forced chocolate brown eyes to collide heatedly with his lidded gaze. 'You disappear at one in the morning, come home soaked through by the rain, clearly upset and barely able to stand on your own two feet. And you're telling me you're sorry?! Not good enough, Ichi. I'm not stupid, Baka! Did you really think that I wouldn't discover the _real_ reason why you left home a year ago? I _know_ that you took over Tou-san's previous division and I also know that you did not do so out of free will. Why do you think I so desperately want to surpass you in strength? I want to protect _you_, Ichigo. You are my Onii-san but you are far too innocent and naive for the Yakuza world! You should not have to bear the Oyaji's punishment all by yourself, damn it! I won't let you!' The sheer intensity that was reverberating so powerfully through a soft baritone, forced Ichigo to blink owlishly in surprise as an unexpected chuckle shattered the night air several seconds later. He was four years older and yet, _here_ he was being thoroughly scolded for being too 'innocent'? Really, Shiro should learn some respect for his elders. But Ichigo was too tired to point out the mistake, merely breathing a sigh of relief as he stubbornly tried to tether his consciousness to reality.

'And just what kind of Onii-san would I be if I allowed my little brother to protect _me_? You shouldn't patronize your elders, Shi-ro…it's rude.' Ichigo drew out his brother's name warningly, leaning forward so that he could press his forehead against a pale one as chocolate brown eyes fluttered half-mast in subtle reprieve and his mind became overrun with only one thought: _Shiro already knew_. It no longer mattered how his little brother had found out or if he had been angry, Ichigo would willingly accept the gentleness he was enveloped in now as a serene smile drifted uncharacteristically across stoic petal pink lips. 'Che, how can ya say that when you look so innocent and lost? And that smile, Ichigo, _why_ is it so happy?' Shiro returned playfully, caressing the corner of soft lips with black nailed fingertips as he briefly thought about reprimanding his Onii-san for biting through his lip in distress. Regardless of how reluctant he was to admit it however, Shiro had been deeply concerned when he had woken several minutes ago to find his beloved missing from his side. He had been even more concerned when the orange haired student hadn't been anywhere else in the small apartment either. Ichi-nii was lucky that he had shown up when he had though, otherwise their Old Man would have been notified about his lost son and the entire town would have been torn apart by the youngest Kurosaki's frantic search.

Tilting his head to the side curiously when the sound of several tinkling chains entered the range of his hearing, golden eyes lidded lustfully behind pale eyelids as several breaths skittered humidly across pale cheeks and his mind finally began to register the astounding sight that was pinned rather provocatively against the front door. His light blue pyjama clad thigh had been slipped between tight jean clad legs, taking the orangette's weight courteously as a steady palm pressed against the centre of a heaving chest to offer a different touch of comfort. Chocolate brown eyes were also alight with an array of emotions that Shiro loved to lose himself within for hours on end, displaying an infinite stretch of all-encompassing affection as pale cheeks were coloured a rising crimson in embarrassment when the orangette finally became aware of his brother's eyes that were drawing up and down his body to memorize every stitch and fold in his clothing. This was the first time that Shiro had seen his brother dressed up like this, the first time that he had glimpsed the glittering power and awakened instinct that burned so fiercely in sorrow torn chocolate brown orbs as he felt his very breath being stolen from his lungs. It was just too much for his mind to comprehend, the white haired fifteen-year-old reeling internally with an uncontained need that wanted _nothing_ more than to_ possess_ the orangette's entire soul for himself.

'S-shit!' He cursed openly, no longer able to conceal the searing heat that his awakening arousal chased through his body as he was completely enveloped in the haunting scent of strawberries, chocolate, falling rain and the electric tang of burning lightning. Lifting curious fingertips to caress the black silk-wrapped hilt of the deadly blade that was draped across his beloved's back, Shiro shivered in rising need when a flare of unexpected possessiveness flooded dark brown orbs before slim fingertips curled restrictively around his wrist to still his uninvited touch. Despite the fact that it was common knowledge that every Captain of the Gotei-13 possessed an eye catching and deadly weapon unique to their fighting style, many in the shape of swords, knives and ranged weapons; Shiro had never before seen Ichigo's or knew that they came in an utterly unique and deadly pair. They were truly beautiful though, befitting of the strength that his brother carried when he was faced with deadly situations as the younger of the two widened his smirk when he noticed all emotion slipping from petal pink lips before sharp eyes glittered brightly in reprimand. He was given only a second to breathe before the ground was ripped from beneath his feet, an impressive display of martial arts propelling his back against the floor as an agile frame straddled his abdomen and the deadly tip of a smaller black blade sunk into the wooden floor beside his head.

'You are a hundred years_ too_ early to even think of touching weapons like these in my presence, Otouto.' A strangely seductive voice purred dangerously low, Shiro dragging the tip of his pierced tongue across suddenly dry lips as the sound of unwinding silk echoed deafeningly through the air and the deadly edge of a large blade came to rest against his neck mere seconds later. Ichigo had drawn so close that Shiro could smell the lingering sweetness of strawberry lollipops on a cool breath as hauntingly beautiful chocolate brown eyes became the centre of his entire world. It did not matter that he was pinned to the floor with a deadly weapon, the white haired fifteen-year-old merely rested a bold finger against the sharp tip before he pushed the weapon back and allowed his own training to take over his mind without holding back. It only took one move, golden eyes lidding down in pure satisfaction as he flipped them over and his palm curled around the top of the smaller blade's more indiscernible hilt. Using the standing weapon like a pivot, it wasn't even a second later that he drew it from the floor without hesitation and boldly settled himself across his brother's hips. Tit-for-tat, it was a game that was often played between them but never before had the younger of two been electrified by such intense arousal and overwhelming need to overpower his beloved so completely.

Ichi-nii had awakened something unknown within him that couldn't be controlled, something that the orangette was about to step right into the middle of without any knowledge of how to tame.

'_Oi_! What do you think you're doing, bastard! I was trying to scare you into _not_ touching them, not entice you into a fight! This isn't a game, Shiro!' Ichigo yelled angrily, shifting his hips in the hopes of dislodging the weight pinning him to the floor as he shuddered in trepidation when golden eyes became hazed with an emotion he had never seen before. Those intense orbs were eating him alive from the inside out, searing into the depths of his soul as the orangette felt his breath hitch painfully in his chest and his right hand trembled around Zangetsu's larger blade. He didn't know what to do anymore, his heart was racing erratically against his chest the moment that a sadistic, demon-like, smirk crept playfully across pale lips. Oh shit! Things were beginning to spin out of control, struggling breaths becoming shorter and shorter as a deepening flush crept across pale cheeks and the orangette struggled to conceal the taboo attraction he had always harboured for his little brother. It did _not_ help that Shiro was sitting in his lap, pinning his left hand above his head and pressing a blade to his neck in warning. Ichigo had forgotten just_ how_ commanding a presence little Shi carried, his wild nature was completely uncontained. The worst though, was that Ichigo could feel his body heating up as the younger of the two rocked forward to steal the larger of Zangetsu's blades from his trembling palm and pinned both of his hands above his head by the sleeves of his coat.

'Tsk, tsk! It's_ no_ good Onii-san!' Shiro reprimanded sternly, pushing the larger of the blades into the floor above Ichigo's head to bind his hands by the fabric of his trench-coat as the smaller blade deftly stilled struggling thighs by sliding into floor between partially parted legs and into the thigh-length hem of black fabric. 'To possess such beautiful blades like these and yet you do not hold onto them tight enough? They should be treasured, Ichigo, become a part of your soul that you never wish to part from. Always keep them close, see…they radiate the strength that your spirit possesses? They should be your pride…Onii-san…just like _you_ are my pride.' Moaning softly when a gentle thumb came to rest against the pulse point of his neck, Ichigo tilted his head to the side abashedly when Shiro shifted forward to bring their faces close enough so that two pairs of lips were hovering mere millimetres apart. _So close_, Ichigo thought dazedly. Chocolate brown eyes lidding in a lustful gaze as the orangette finally began to understand the emotions that were reflected so vibrantly in his Otouto's eyes. Even though he knew instinctively that they shouldn't be there, it was _wrong_ of them to exist between them. But when a forefinger and thumb tipped his head back, the older of the two did not make to pull away or worm himself out of the dual swords that were pinning him to the floor.

'I won't let you go, brother.' Shiro whispered possessively, leaning forward so that his lips could whisper chastely across a petal pink pair. 'You are my soul, Onii-san. I will sear that fact it into the depths of your mind…heat your body up from the inside out and consume your heart until you understand just _how_ tightly my grip around my pride is and how much I love you. My eternal beloved, _my_ Ichigo. I will make it so that you will never again wish to leave my side or protect me when it should be _I_ that protects_ you_.'

'So prepare yourself, Ichi-nii. Now that you have awakened me from my daze, be ready to be stolen away by the infinite pleasures of the night and the forbidden taste of my encompassing obsession.'

* * *

><p>'Nnngh! S…Shi…s-stop…SHI…S-S-STOP! W-wha—?!' Ichigo whined with considerable frustration, barely able to voice his confusion when pale lips and the swipe of a slick blue tongue held him captive to the all-consuming bliss that an erotic and deep entanglement created. This <em>shouldn't<em> be happening! Ichigo's mind screamed at him harshly, his soul shattering under the sensations when he was cruelly betrayed by his body that was bowing sensually into the exploring sensations and his heart was captured by several white strands that fell forward to brush his cheeks. Colourless hip-length strands were sprawling evocatively across the floor, drawing the orangette into the warm intimacy that flowed like water between them as widened chocolate brown eyes eventually fluttered shut and restless fingertips dug uselessly into the palm of his bound hands. He couldn't _move_, couldn't _breathe_ and even as large black dots began to swirl into the corner of his vision, the older of the two merely shivered when the cool press of a silvery tongue ring slipped into the depths of his mouth and overwhelmed his mind with an all-consuming and rising pleasure. Several moans were spilling freely from his lungs, eagerly swallowed up by his brother's skilled mouth as the orange haired nineteen-year-old leaned into the black nailed fingertips that came to rest against the side of his neck with gentle tenderness.

Time was slowly fading away into an indiscernible stretch around them, the gentle touch used to ground his spinning thoughts as the undeniable taste of blood flooded his mouth and Ichigo could no longer find any logical reason to fight the swelling tide of overwhelming stimulation that was possessing his body, heart and soul so completely. Shiro was _far_ too skilled for a fifteen-year-old, the orange haired Kurosaki struggling to keep up with his little brother's dark and possessive kiss as black nailed fingertips dug into the flesh of a tanned neck and a free hand slid sensually down his torso. Slipping beneath the hem of a black long-sleeved shirt, after having managed to untuck soft fabric from three crisscrossing belts and several twining black chains; icy cold fingertips were left to caress trembling skin leisurely as a startled breath hitched painfully in the orangette's throat and shifting hips tried desperately to regain more freedom of movement. It was not working, however. Zangetsu had the orangette firmly pinned to the floor, Shi's knees pressing restrictively against either of his hips as the white haired student bowed erotically over his older brother's taller frame without an inkling of letting him breathe any time soon. And Ichigo didn't _want_ him to let go either, his entire soul was far too content with the turn of events as he leaned up instinctively to deepen the angle of the kiss.

He was fighting valiantly to regain a touch of dominance over the situation, his efforts trailing off into sweet submission instead when his entire mind became fogged with skittering sensations and curiously exploring fingertips accidentally discovered the silver rings that pierced his left nipple and navel so boldly. The abrupt curse that muffled against pale lips was ringing deafeningly in Ichigo's ears, his heart stuttering painfully in his chest when Shiro suddenly pulled away and golden eyes fluttered open to gaze at him with pure confusion. Ichigo could understand the white haired teen's lack of understanding, he had never displayed an inkling of interest towards body art before. But through touch alone, Shi had stumbled upon one of his Onii-san's unknown secrets once more. Tonight was just _full_ of surprises, it would seem. The older of two arching back abruptly when cool fingertips traced newly discovered piercings and highly responsive skin, causing several tinkling chains to resound powerfully through the air as a barely concealed moan followed the resounding melody with pleading chants of 'Oh…oh god! Shi-ro! Please!' Chocolate brown eyes were fluttering open sensually behind a messy sprawl of orange locks, intense golden orbs searing accusingly into tanned flesh as the white haired teen leaned back to observe the vibrant blush that was burning brighter and brighter across his beloved's already aroused and pinked cheeks.

Was what he had felt real? It seemed completely incomprehensible to think that his innocent Onii-san would possess piercings but as he watched Ichigo squirm restlessly with pleasure when he pushed a tight shirt upwards, golden eyes zeroed in on the circular silver-ball piercing that was settled in Ichigo's left nipple and the plain bellybutton ring that accentuated a perfectly sculpted abdomen. For such a feminine decoration, it seemed to fit exactly where it was _regardless_ of its placement. It would have been the perfect sight, Shiro mourned deeply, were it not for the noticeable scar that was dragged so deeply and cruelly in the centre of his beloved's torso. The three matching wounds that were carved into Ichigo's back, were also something that he could feel as he curled his palms around shifting sides to calm the orangette's restless shifting. The wounds that his beloved had endured for _him_ when he was younger, were a mar upon flawlessly tanned skin that shouldn't even exist. It was a taint his beloved did _not_ deserve as pale fingertips guiltily memorized the ragged white line that a katana had created ten years ago. There was a sombre frown tugging at pale lips, a thick string of saliva still connecting their tongues intimately as the light of the apartment foyer glinted off the slick thread that had become tainted pink with the blood of Shiro's reopened wound and the harsh bite Ichigo had made to his bottom lip.

'_So_ beautiful and untainted, Ichi-nii…you don't deserve these marks.' He said quietly, the sound of his voice startling the nineteen-year-old from his dazed thoughts as an exasperated sigh rolled from luscious petal pink lips and the tip of a slick tongue dragged across a plush surface to gather Shiro's taste back into himself. Averting brown eyes from the piercing sorrow that danced mournfully within golden eyes, Ichigo tilted his head to the side as he drew up his left thigh with great caution as to exactly where Zangetsu's smaller blade was situated. The small action tilted Shi's weight abruptly, forcing the younger of the two to sprawl forward as a pale forehead came to rest against the orangette's chest and a gentle smile curled across petal pink lips when the orangette found just enough freedom to press a consoling kiss to the top of a scruffy white head. Shiro's hip-length hair was spilling forward to capture them in a world of their own creation, pale palms pushing the white haired teen upwards so that he could resettle himself on his rightful perch. Intense golden eyes were glittering with a rising deviousness, taking the action that Ichigo had executed for the challenge it was meant to be. There was a playful smirk dancing across luscious pink lips, a telling indicator that the orangette had awakened his own brand of teasing to prove to his beloved that he wasn't going to tolerate regretful words and sorrowful murmurs interfering with their pleasure.

'Just _what_ are you murmuring so sorrowfully, Otouto?' Ichigo returned boldly, using the same words Shiro had spoken to him earlier as a seductive tongue swiped across slightly parted lips to focus Shiro's waning attention solely on him. 'Lose your concentration now, Shi, and I'll be out of my bonds to claim _you_ instead. So hurry up, will ya? Ichi-nii really doesn't have a lot of patience when Zangetsu is so close by. In fact, I'm rather wound up already…so take some responsibility for your reckless actions.' Surprised at bold words that rolled so enticingly from a silky tenor, the orange haired nineteen-year-old cried out in breathy need when emboldened fingertips grasped a hold of his nipple ring and gave a pleasurable tug before he was completely overwhelmed by biting teeth that dug deeply into the side of his neck. Dear _god_, he cursed internally. The sheer sensation that Shiro was searing through his already heated blood, was enough to arouse pure bliss across the depths of a strained soul as the orange haired medical student felt his entire world shattering to pieces around him. His mind was spinning dizzyingly with rising rapture, the heady and unexpected pain enlivening every sensuous touch that skittered across highly sensitized skin as the four year older brother lost the valiant resolve to keep his increasingly louder moans silenced.

'F-fuck! S-SHIRO!' Ichigo wailed with sheer desperation, shuddering near uncontrollably when several rivulets of blood trailed sensually across exposed skin and soaked through the wide collar of black fabric. These were his favourite clothes, damn it! And Shiro was ruining them _so_ nonchalantly by pinning holes in his coat and smearing blood across his favourite shirt. Despite the fact that he couldn't really say anything with his mind completely hazed over with dizzying rapture and pain alike, it still remained a lingering concern in the back of his mind as the orange haired university student was promptly guided back to reality with the sound of a musical chuckle spilling hauntingly through the air. 'Zangetsu, eh? A fitting name, Onii-san, to surpass the Oyaji's Engetsu isn't it?' Frowning in confusion at claim, Ichigo's gaze lidded down sensually with forgotten instinct when Shiro reached behind him to draw the unusually shaped blade from the floor. Trailing a black nailed fingertip curiously across the deadly sharp edge, the older of the two was just about to yell a stern warning before he was forced to turn his head to the side when Zangetsu was driven into the floor mere millimetres away from scoring his left ear. A burning sear was blossoming across his left cheek instead, creating a shallow wound that stung his flesh as the white haired teen leaned forward to capture falling carmine rivulets with the tip of his blue tongue.

'When you whisper such sweet seductions, Ichi-nii, I'm going to lose it.' Shiro cautioned breathily, swiping his fingertips across the small wound to satisfy the instinctive need he had to paint his beloved's form red with blood. 'I'm already balancing on the razor edge here, so don't entice me anymore than you already are. Otherwise you'll become soaked with your own blood, unable to do anything but scream my name and beg for fulfilment that I won't give.' Blinking owlishly at the purring declaration, Ichigo struggled to keep himself back from arching wildly when the loss of Zangetsu's presence from between his parted thighs, afforded Shiro a much freer range of movement. The white haired fifteen-year-old was slipping himself playfully between forcibly parted legs, resting his hand against the inside of a jean clad thigh as he traced sinfully tight fabric upwards to outline the shape of a hardened and needy arousal. The orange haired teen was shuddering deeply in response to the touch, a reverberating moan rising in his throat as he threw his head back against the floor and moaned deeply at the soul deep satisfaction that was curling so tightly in the pit of his stomach. Pure anticipation was racing erratically across tanned skin, prickling with rising sensations as Shiro leaned down to press his lips the centre of a taught abdomen.

Teasing a navel piercing with a curling tongue and tugging teeth, the younger of the two eagerly drank up the erotic moans that were spiralling restlessly through the air as he seared the breathtaking image that Ichigo made below him into the depths of his mind for eternity. Several silver studded belts and twining black chains were settled evocatively upon a naked abdomen, tinkling with every shift of yielding pleasure as a dishevelled shirt rode upwards to expose hardened nipples to the cool spring air and messy orange locks skittered across pale skin to partially conceal heavily flushed cheeks. It was creating a delicious sight that was almost too good to be true, Shiro thought to himself possessively. It should have been an _utter_ sin for someone to possess such a responsive body as Ichigo did, it simply wasn't fair! Allowing for golden eyes to flutter half-mast in unadulterated lust, Shiro eagerly drew in the haunting sweet scent that was enveloping his soul so wholly the moment that sly fingertips undid the button and zipper of tight black jeans. Intricately buckled black boots were still settled upon struggling feet, the older of two pressing thick soles against the floor to gain more purchase as he cradled the white haired fifteen-year-old closer to his arching frame. He was drowning in _pure_ bliss, a lithe frame rocking backwards and forwards into the gifted sensations as the orangette struggled to simultaneously free himself from his bonds.

He wanted to touch too, damn it! He wanted to feel snow white locks between his fingertips, burn upon his skin the heat of Shiro's body and break himself over and over again from the inside out. He wanted _more_, _closer_, _harder_…more _pleasure_…more _sensation_…more _pain_—.

'Ah! F-fuck, Shiro!' Ichigo cried out deafeningly, shivering in need when his jeans were dragged down to expose a hardened arousal to the cool air and a firm grip settled restrictively around the base. 'Moaning my name so sweetly, Onii-san. Do not despair, beloved, I will mark you as mine until it is the only thing that you can remember.' A husky baritone echoed promisingly, emphasizing seductive words by dragging a slow pace towards the sensitive head and pressing a black nailed thumb deeply into the weeping slit _just_ to ignite a spark of pleasured-pain within dazed chocolate brown eyes. 'You are my pride, my beloved and the source of my strength. So don't you dare hold back your needs any longer.' Shiro warned sternly, listening intently to a hitched cry that echoed deafeningly through the small apartment as the orangette finally took his words to heart. There was a sound of ripping fabric echoing through the air, Ichigo skilfully wrenching the sleeves of his coat free from Zangetsu's pinning touch as he buried his fingers in hip-length strands and boldly yanked his little brother closer to him. There was no more time hesitation, petal pink lips sliding determinedly across a pale pair as the medical student took control of the kiss and flipped them over so that he could straddle pale blue pyjama clad thighs intimately.

'Che!_ Too_ slow, Otouto.' Ichigo purred dangerously low, a playful fire igniting deeply within lust darkened eyes as the older of the two dragged two fingertips into the depths of his mouth and a slick pink tongue peaked out to bathe them in a generous flood of sticky saliva. 'I told you that I don't have a lot of patience. If you are not going to satisfy me, then I'll just _take_ my own pleasure, Shi-ro.' Ichigo warned darkly, fully intending to make good on his promise _without_ holding back as he leaned towards the black nailed fingertips that returned to the base of his arousal several seconds later. Several rocking movements were chasing up his pleasure into uncontrollable heights, partially clad legs parting for his exploring touch as Ichigo trailed two wet fingertips against the inside of his thigh. There was a mortified tear of unfulfilled desire dragging slowly down his cheek, his back bowing in a sensual arch as two fingers slid wetly against his entrance before slipping inside regardless of the blood rushing deafeningly loud in his ears. A quiet moan was shattering the night air, the sound surprisingly not coming from him as lidded chocolate brown eyes gazed down lustfully the moment that Shiro pushed himself onto his elbows and black nailed fingertips came up to curl calmingly around restlessly swaying hips.

Hissing painfully at the unexpected stretch that was opening him up from the inside, the slightly taller orangette leaned down decisively to entice his little brother into a sensual kiss as he was mercifully distracted by a rapturous entanglement and steady fingertips began to drag a slow pace up and down around his already straining arousal. _So good_, he moaned loudly. His rationality disintegrating piece by piece as the medical student yielded his very soul to the expert press of a pierced tongue that slipped into the depths of his mouth and silenced several breathy responses that could easily be overheard by disgruntled neighbours. There was no more time to hold back though, a burning fire of unsatisfied lust ignited deeply within rushing blood as Ichigo no longer cared about the pain that was threatening to overwhelm his soul as he gazed imploringly and pleadingly into Shiro's lidded golden eyes. It was too much for his mind to comprehend in those moments, petal pink lips parting for a litany of cries as the white haired fifteen-year-old leaned forward to dig biting teeth into the tanned flesh of a bared neck and shifting thighs forced the scruffy orangette to fall more purposefully into a warm lap. Ichigo could feel Shiro's arousal pressing against him heatedly, pleading for just as much attention as his own was as a pinnacle of uncontained lust echoed through the air with an invisible push.

'You have no idea the sight you make, Onii-san.' Shiro whispered with considerable strain, uncurling his grip from Ichigo's arousal as he stilled stretching fingertips and dragged a heated path up the side of an arching neck with a silvery tongue ring to distract his beloved from what was to come. 'The reason why I took my time was so that I didn't end up hurting you. But this is my limit, Onii-san. Seeing you like this is enough to break anyone with an ounce of self-control. So are you ready for the pain, beloved? This is most likely going to hurt.' Blunt fingernails were digging warningly into the back of Shiro's neck, Ichigo licking the corner of a pale mouth as he tugged Shi's bottom lip between his teeth and rolled vibrant chocolate brown eyes with quiet exasperation. Several panting breaths were skittering across pale cheeks, the white haired student leaning into Ichigo's touch until elegant tanned fingers were the ones that slipped his pyjama pants over his hips and curled a welcoming grip around a straining arousal. 'R-really now, S-Shi. Did it ever occur to you that I might like the pain? There's plenty of time to be gentle in the future, but right now is_ not_ one of them. So _break_ me, Otouto. I am yours to do with as you please. Just _please_ quench this burning fire within that I cannot contain…I _beg_ of you…fill me up and—.'

The words had scarcely left Ichigo's lips before chocolate brown eyes clenched shut in considerable strain, a scorching hot arousal ripping deeply into him with a single thrust as clenching fingers curled supportively around Shiro's steady shoulders. Several tears were dragging wetly down flushed cheeks, tender kisses coming upwards to erase their existence as a whimper of pain spilled mournfully from luscious petal pink lips. That did not dim the fire that was burning so fiercely in his gut however, Ichigo using the overwhelming pain as a catalyst to increase his pleasure as he shifted his hips impatiently for his little brother to start moving. It was utter bliss, his soul shattering under the contrasted gentleness and pain as he yielded himself to the gifted pleasure with abandon. The trail of a telling slickness that slid sensually down his thighs, did not deter Ichigo from searching for his ultimate peak as he revelled intensely in black nailed fingertips that dug fingernails deeply into his back and biting teeth that latched onto the shell of his ear with warning. His cries were becoming too loud again, he _knew_. But he couldn't contain them anymore, the pleasure was too much not to voice as he moved with Shiro to accommodate a considerable size and heady length that had buried inside him at exactly the right angle.

'S-So good…Shi!' Ichigo moaned with hitching breaths, tanned skin alight with racing pleasure as sheer white exploded behind closed eyelids and the entire world fell away from around them. Nothing else existed _but_ them; synchronized and sensual movements climbing irrevocably towards the pinnacle of their dual release as the orange haired nineteen-year-old felt his entire soul become suspended between two worlds of life and death. There was _so_ much pleasure, _so_ much fulfilment that he was overflowing from within as tanned fingers tugged needily on hip-length white strands to ground himself for several seconds. It was an impossible task though, the orangette bringing a fistful of snowy locks towards his nose as he seared the overwhelming sweet scent of cinnamon, vanilla and dark fire into the depths of his lungs for all eternity. The small and almost childish action, was the trigger that pushed Shiro into the last of his control. A thumb nail was pressing deliberately deep into the slit of a weeping arousal, biting teeth latching onto a tanned shoulder as the younger of the two completely shattered his beloved Onii-san from the inside out.

'SHIRO!' A pleasured tenor called out in response, a sensual bow indicating that his desperate needs and unsatisfied desires had been catered too perfectly as Ichigo was overwhelmed by the fierce explosion of his abrupt and unexpected release. _Too much_, it almost too much to bear as black dots swam into the range of his vision and pearly white painted his coat and shirt far too tellingly. His blood was alight with pure ecstasy, the world spinning and fading around him as the orangette graciously allowed Shiro to silence himself through a kiss the moment that a warm wetness painted deeply inside him. This was all that they needed, all that they would _ever_ need. And now that he knew…he wasn't planning on letting his Otouto slip through his fingertips or out of his embrace again.

They had just successfully bound each other up, shared their souls without fear and seared into their destiny _nothing_ but eternal satisfaction and gentle love.

**...**

A quiet moan was following Ichigo back into harsh reality, chocolate brown eyes fluttering open with strain as a soft bedside lamp illuminated his room with a gentle glow. A dark green eiderdown duvet was drawn up to his chest, white silk sheets caressing tanned skin as sticky and scruffy orange bangs seemed to adhere to the beads of sweat that were gathered upon a furrowed tangerine brow. But that was not all that Ichigo could feel, a wet washcloth had also tenderly come to rest upon his forehead to cool the overwhelming heat that was enveloping him from all sides. It was dutifully keeping a painful migraine, pounded distressingly against his temples, mostly at bay as trembling fingertips tried to shift the presence of the cloth to better observe the depths of his room around him. He could hear restless feet walking cautiously over the wooden floors, feel the double bed dip by his side as a gentle palm caressed his cheek and the orange haired student found himself nuzzling the surprisingly cool touch quite happily. Had he passed out? It was the first question that formed coherently on the tip of his tongue. But it faded away into the background when a flush blossomed across pale cheek the moment that he was reminded of exactly what had transpired between him and Shiro earlier.

Dear _god_, had he really lost himself so completely? It sure as hell seemed like it when a quiet chuckle shattered the still night air and a playful kiss was pressed to the tip of his nose. Hip-length white locks were spilling all around him, captivating the two Kurosaki brothers in a world of their own creation as golden eyes flooded a hazed vision and a surprisingly concerned frown tugged pale lips downwards. The fifteen-year-old was caressing the corner of Ichigo's lips with the pad of his thumb, offering the orangette only a chaste kiss before he made to draw away. Ichigo was deeply confused by the sudden withdrawal however, not entirely sure what had prompted it as he tilted his head to the side to observe the clock that was beside his bed. He wanted so desperately to call out to his beloved, feeling quite lost and cold where he was _despite_ the searing and uncomfortable heat that had sunk into his skin. The small action caused a cool washcloth to fall away from his brow though, an instantaneous flood of dizziness assaulting his mind as the room spun in circles around him and Shiro's stared at him with harsh reprimanded. Just as he was about to call out, a harsh and painful cough lodged itself in the back of his throat as the heaving sound forced the white haired high school student back over to the bed with concerned steps.

'Sit up, Ichi-nii.' Shiro said quietly, helping his brother to shift forward as he slipped himself beneath the warm covers and guided a warm back to rest against his chest. The back of an orange head was instinctively coming lean against his shoulder for support, black nailed fingertips reaching towards the bedside table to bring a glass of water towards petal pink lips as the older of the two tentatively took the offer with great relief. Sipping slowly at the soothing liquid to calm his sudden fit, Ichigo shivered softly when a warm arm slid welcomingly around his waist and a gentle kiss was placed against the top of his head to calm the erratic heat that was skittering so painfully across his forehead. It was warm and eternally soothing where he was, Ichigo thought dazedly. He had forgotten just how gentle Shiro could be as a cool palm slid across his back to ease his pain further and several cooing words were whispered tenderly against the shell of his ear. A cool washcloth was returned to his forehead not long after the orangette had relaxed his body back against his beloved, the older teen merely allowing a gentle heat to engulf him from behind him as he stared in curiosity at the two white tablets that were passed into the palm of his hand. Before he could part his lips to ask a question, he was interrupted by a soothing baritone as Shiro pulled Ichigo more firmly against his chest and nuzzled the side of a bared neck quite happily.

'Drink it, Onii-san. Please. It'll reduce your fever.' Shiro intoned sagely, carding gentle fingertips through messy orange locks as he waited patiently for his beloved to obey his request. 'You gave me quite a fright, you know. Passing out so suddenly after coming, I thought I hurt you too much. You should have told me that you were feeling sick, Baka! I didn't want to hurt you—.' Silencing his younger brother's climbing distress with a quiet chuckle, Ichigo took his medication without complaint as he passed the glass back over to his bedside table where the time already read as 5:30 in the morning. It seemed he had been out far longer than expected, enough to worry little Shi much more than he's have liked to in the first place. And right after reaching such happiness in each other's arms too, he should be ashamed for the weakness present in his body as he shifted on his side with great difficultly and laid his ear against the beat of a steady heart. A small and contented moan was spilling freely from parted petal pink lips the moment that Shiro returned his gentle touch to scruffy orange locks and pale lips come to rest against the top of his head near constantly. The older of the two was valiantly fighting with his awareness in those moments, struggling to regain some control over his movements and far too slow actions as an unsettled sheet of cold sweat broke across his skin.

'I'm sorry, Shi. I didn't think it was this bad. But I won't trade what happened tonight for the world, s-so please don't berate yourself. I love you, Otouto, much more than I know I should and to find the same reflection of affection in your eyes…was enough to force me to forget I had been feeling sick since earlier today.' An all-encompassing silence seemed to settle around their twined forms not long after that, the orangette's thoughts becoming clearer as more than a half hour seemed to pass and the medication began to settle itself into his system. Shiro's warmth had wound him up so tightly that Ichigo didn't want to move anymore, he just wanted to stay exactly where he was. But he was forced to shift restlessly when he was reminded of just where Zangetsu had been left. The morning hours were ticking on further and further and with it came the greater possibility that their Oyaji could storm in here and find them twined so sensually together. Just as he was about to wriggle himself free from Shiro's grip that had curled two arms restrictively around his waist and lift his ear away from the steady beat of a heart, Ichigo was kept still by two legs that twisted around his thighs to keeping him captive to a strong chest as the white haired fifteen-year-old shook his head disappointedly and reprimanded the older of the two for moving.

'Relax, Ichi, where do you think you're off to?'

'I need to put Zangetsu away, Shiro. Otherwise Otou-san—.'

'I already put them away, Ichi-nii. See, the key's right next to the bed. I also changed your clothes to make you more presentable. I was forced to contact the Old Man at three in the morning, that's how concerned I was. He's the one that told me to give you the medication when you woke, he also said that he'll be dropping by later to check on us. I think his first words were: "What trouble has my idiotic sons gotten themselves into now?".' Chuckling quietly at the predictable response, Ichigo leaned back into his beloved's embrace as chocolate brown eyes drifted shut exhaustedly. He didn't know how many more surprises he could take, things were already too much for him but he had just enough strength to lean upwards and press a grateful kiss to the centre of Shiro's forehead. Golden were fluttering shut with a quiet hum, the white haired teen welcoming the brief affection as he made himself much more comfortable against several warm pillows and drew the orange haired medical student more firmly into his arms. He had long since decided that he would look after and protect his Onii-san, whatever it took. And the sweet affection that he got in return was enough to satisfy him for eternity. Nothing would be able to steal _his_ Ichigo away from again…

Shiro shouldn't allow it anymore, not even the frightening might of the Gotei-13 would be able to come between them.

* * *

><p>1* - Tōshin – God of Sword<p>

Right, there you have it my honeys. Any questions, don't be afraid to ask and I will answer it to the best of my ability. Other than that, may I please ask for a small review for my hard work, it would truly mean a lot to me right now. I hope you enjoyed and I'll hopefully see you sometime soon with a new update…if I can find a story and the strength to write it.

Yours Always

Chocolate Carnival


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